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Therapist Report #1

Therapist Report:

From what I've seen, it doesn't seem like Harry has improved since he arrived. There was one outburst that we could've worked with, but he continuously shot it down.

I'm not sure what to do with him, since it seems as if he doesn't want to recover at all.

Next session is today. We will see if he has improved or not.

Allison McIntyre,
Therapist under Maritime Medical

-----

"You've been a naughty girl for daddy," Harry cooed, fisting her natural hair with his slender fingers.

Allison moaned and threw her head back in pleasure, but he yanked her back up to look him in the eye.

"Now do as I say," He ordered, stepping back from her as he held the Polaroid camera in his hands. "Touch yourself for me, kitten."

She placed her fingers in between her legs, moving aside the lace thong she currently wore. She slid around her soaking and sensitive clįt before crying out in pleasure.

A flash went off and she saw Harry in front of her shaking the photo in front of her to develop.

"Come take a look," he told her, shoving the paper in her face.

Instead of seeing herself in the picture, the words "CRAZY BITCH" were printed all over.

"I'm going to choke you while I fück the shit out of you," Harry told her, walking in front of her with his hands out as she scrambled backwards on the bed, "and you're going to enjoy it while screaming my name, you little slüt."

--

Allison sat up in bed with a gasp, her eyes blinking rapidly. She clutched her chest in an attempt to calm her racing heart. What the hell was that?!

"Are you okay?" Evan asked, his voice groggy and laden with sleep. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head frantically and leaned back on the pillows. "Not really."

She shut her eyes tightly, and watched the colors float around from behind her eyelids before slowly falling asleep.

---

"So Harry," Allison started, her long legs crossed as she stared at the man sitting across from her on the settee, "how was your week so far?"

He didn't answer, but instead his eyes traveled down her voluptuous figure. She was wearing a pair of tight light blue jeans and an equally as tight white long sleeve shirt along with a pair of black heels.

"Better now that I see you," Harry flirted, playing with the rings on his finger before looking up at her through his eyelashes.

She rolled her eyes at his pathetic pick up line and opened her notepad. "How did you charity ball go from two nights ago?"

"It was great," he told her, taking a sip from the water glass in his hand. "I finally got to meet the people who work beneath me in my company. But wouldn't you know?"

Her smile faltered. "What do you mean?"

"So you're going to pretend like you weren't there?" He asked, his eyebrow raised. "I saw you."

"Even if I was invited to the gala, which I wasn't, I was out of town for the weekend," she said, her eyebrows furrowed. "How did you see me?"

His eyes widened, and he stammered out. "It must've been someone else. I apologize."